


Like a Shadow in My Wake

by celeste9



Series: Promise [13]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Episode Tag, Family, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Lester was not having a good day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Shadow in My Wake

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by fredbassett. Title from "Stay" by Poets of the Fall.

James Lester was not having a good day.

It had started when he awoke in yesterday's filthy clothes to an empty bed, sunlight peaking in through the curtains. He looked groggily at the clock. Fuck. Why hadn't the alarm gone off? Why hadn't Becker woken him up? He sat up too fast, instantly regretting the movement as his wound twinged and his stitches felt like they were about to pop out. He rested a hand on his abdomen and gingerly got out of bed, begrudgingly admitting after only a couple of steps that he needed to use the cane.

Becker wasn't in the bathroom, but then, James hadn't really expected him to be. Doubtless he was already at the ARC and had been for some time.

In the kitchen, James found a note in Becker's neat, precise hand propped up against the coffee machine.

_James,_

_I know you're probably furious right now, but there was no way in hell I was letting you go to work today. Please recall that you nearly had your guts ripped out yesterday. Take a nap and make sure you eat-- you are meant to be_ _ recuperating. _ _And take your painkillers. Give me a ring if you need anything, but if you just want to yell, be advised that I will hang up on you._   


  
_Love,_   


  
_Hils_   


  


_P.S. I'm taking your car because as of yesterday, I no longer have one. If you decide you want to brave public transport, know that I can easily overpower you and I will take you straight back home._ _  
I do not make idle threats!   
_

James let out a string of curses that would have made his mother weep. He was only mildly appeased by the coffee and croissants Becker had left for him.

Sid and Nancy only made a brief appearance, nosing at James' ankles and cooing before disappearing again. James supposed that he probably smelled awful enough that even they were disgusted. After he finished eating, James discovered that even showering was an ordeal. It was much harder than it should have been to keep the damn stitches dry and he was embarrassed to admit how much the fucking thing ached by the time he was done. He took two of his painkiller tablets.

There was nothing on television fit for anyone in possession of a brain cell. Becker had apparently confiscated James' laptop along with anything that even remotely might have allowed him to accomplish any work at home. He tried to read for a while, but the print was giving him a headache and he eventually admitted defeat. Bored out of his mind and drowsy from the painkillers, he lay down in bed and was asleep within minutes.

A phone ringing woke him some time later. When he saw the number, he considered letting it go to voice mail, but decided he was going to have to deal with it sooner or later, so what would be the point of putting it off? "Hello, Agatha."

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

And the day just kept getting worse. "I gather you've spoken to Becker, then." The traitor.

"When you told me that you're in charge of a team that hunts dinosaurs, you didn't think it was worth a mention that one of the dinosaurs tried to eat you?"

"It wasn't actually a dinosaur--"

"You fucking idiot!" Agatha exploded.

James winced. Oh, Christ, he was in for it.

"You didn't think that I might like to know you could have died yesterday? I know I'm only your ex, but I thought… You're still the father of my children, James, and I thought that meant something."

"It does, Agatha, I'm sorry. I should have told you, but I didn't want to worry you."

"You didn't want to worry me?" There was a hysterical tinge to Agatha's laughter. "You almost died, but you _didn't want to worry me._ You are a piece of work."

"So I've been told. But Agatha, I didn't want… You know how much I hate…"

"Yes, I know. You make it so damn difficult to care about you." She sighed softly. "I'm going to put David on the line, all right? He wants to talk to you."

After a rustle of movement, David's high, child's voice sounded through the phone. "Daddy?"

"Yes, David, I'm here."

"Mummy said you had an accident because of the dinosaurs on the telly."

James rubbed his forehead. He didn't care about what had happened on his own account. He cared about how it had hurt the people he loved, what it meant for David, for Henry and Julia, even for Agatha. For Becker. "I did, but I'm okay now. It was just a scratch."

"Are you sure? You're not going to go away? You're not… you're not going to die?"

Shit. Bloody, buggering hell. "I promise, David. I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay." David immediately sounded more cheerful, his voice taking on an excited lilt. "Do you really chase dinosaurs, Daddy? Real live dinosaurs, like the ones they showed on the telly?"

James wished he could find as much enjoyment in the idea as his children seemed to. "Yes, I do. And so does Hils."

"That's so cool! Did you get all of them? Did you kill the bad ones?"

"We took care of them. Becker… Hils shot the dangerous ones." Becker had been rather frightening, actually, or so Jess had told him.

"Good," David said with a sort of gleeful viciousness that an eight-year-old probably shouldn't display. "Hils wasn't hurt, was he?"

"No, he's fine."

"That's good. Are we going to see you soon?"

"Yes, I promise." That was a promise James had every intention of keeping. There was nothing like a near-death experience to make you want to be able to hug your children. Maybe he could make the drive that very weekend, even if he only stayed a day, or an afternoon.

"Mum says she wants to talk to you again."

"Okay. I love you, David."

"I love you, too, Daddy."

Agatha's voice sounded teary. "Did you lie when you told me that you're safe, James? That you stay far away from the creatures?"

"No, I didn't lie, I swear it. What happened yesterday, that won't ever happen again. I don't go in the field, Agatha. I sit at a desk and that's the truth."

She took an audible breath. "All right, then. Just… James… It's okay to need people, and to be needed. Let Hilary take care of you, won't you? It's as much for him as it is for you."

James squeezed his eyes shut, remembering the way Becker had clung to him in bed last night, the neediness in his touch. He had ached, to see Becker that way, to know it was his fault, but he couldn't… God, he hated to be fussed over. "I'll try."

"I suppose that's the best I can expect," Agatha said, with that weary resignation James knew all too well. "Henry and Julia aren't here, but will you ring them later, please? I know they'll want to hear your voice."

"Yes, of course."

"I'll talk to you later, okay? Take care, James."

"Goodbye, Agatha."

James set the phone down, feeling incredibly drained despite the fact he'd been sleeping most of the day. He didn't even think he could blame it on the painkillers at that point. Who would have thought that being mauled by a vicious creature from the future would be even more taxing emotionally than it was physically? He didn't remember having this much trouble the last time one of the sodding things had tried to kill him.

Becker sent him a text with the approximate time he expected to be home, assuming there were no disasters at the ARC. He also said he would make dinner, but James decided that he could do it himself. It might be nice for Becker to be able to come home and relax, considering that he'd actually been working while James had been sitting on his arse all day.

He found some chicken in the back of the refrigerator that thankfully hadn't gone off yet, so he put it in a pan with some potatoes, onions, and carrots (the only fresh vegetables they had left, apparently) to roast in the oven. Because he was feeling adventurous-- and also bored-- he whipped together a chocolate mousse (Agatha's recipe, she used to make it all the time), adding in some rum because he felt he deserved it. The mousse used up the rest of their eggs, but they were due for a grocery run anyway.

James paused and replayed his last thought in his mind. Shit. When had he and Becker become a 'we'? Technically, Becker didn't even live there. He still kept his own flat, but James honestly couldn't remember the last time Becker had slept there. He hadn't thought to ask whether Becker had planned on staying in James' flat while James was away, because it hadn't seemed to matter. Becker had somehow become a fixture in James' life, a constant presence that he didn't even need to think about. He always just knew Becker was there.

He knew that Becker had been taken aback by James' pronouncement that he'd included Becker in his will. It had been a decision he'd given a lot of thought to, but in the end, it had been easy. He loved Becker. He wasn't sure exactly what they were, lovers, or partners, or whatever other word people might use, but Becker was important to him. The will had seemed like a way to show that. Perhaps he shouldn't have sprung it on Becker the way that he had, but he had only meant to say, _This is how much you mean to me._

Dinner was almost ready when Becker arrived with a "Hello, darling," quickly followed by a "Fuck, it smells amazing in here." He wandered into the kitchen. "James, you didn't have to… I said I'd cook."

"I wanted to."

Becker looked doubtful, but he simply shrugged. "Okay. So, are you… How are you feeling? I know you must be angry, but really, there was no need for you to come in today. You can yell if you want but I--"

_Shut up,_ James thought and kissed him, Becker's words morphing into a surprised squeak before he settled his hands on James' hips, drawing him closer. They were both breathing heavily when they pulled apart and James rested his forehead against the side of Becker's neck. "I love you, Hils," he said, meaning it desperately, meaning it so intensely that it hurt.

Becker made a choked noise that was sort of a half-sob, his arms clutching tightly around James' back. "I love you, too, James," he said.

They stood there in the middle of the kitchen, holding each other, and it felt… surprisingly normal. It felt right. James had almost fucking died yesterday and he was high on painkillers and if he wanted to be sappy and say 'I love you' and hold Becker, then he was damn well going to do it. Agatha… Agatha was right. Emotion had always made him uncomfortable but it didn't mean that he didn't feel it. He didn't want to lose Becker like he'd lost Agatha, too bloody stubborn and proud to tell her what was on his mind, to reach out when he needed to, or when she needed him to.

He didn't know if he could let Becker take care of him, but maybe they could take care of each other.

"Bugger," James said suddenly and disentangled himself from Becker's grasp, managing to get the chicken out of the oven before it burned. Or, actually, Becker got it out because James may have grimaced a bit bending over and Becker was under the impression he was the knight in shining armour or something.

They ate their meal mostly in silence, not uncomfortable, but maybe a tad embarrassed. James mentioned Agatha's call and Becker was completely unrepentant over having told her about what had happened. Becker told him that the team had asked after him, that they all wished him a quick recovery. James stared down at his plate, feeling a tightness in his throat that he didn't care to examine too closely.

The mousse hadn't been able to chill for quite long enough but Becker was too impatient to wait, intrigued by the promise of actual, homemade dessert. The noise he made as he swallowed his first bite was positively sinful. "Oh, God. I love you. I love Agatha." He licked his spoon and James shifted in his seat.

Becker grinned wickedly, very much aware of what he was doing, and proceeded to finish his mousse with the sort of relish that would have got him kicked out of most family establishments.

James' own dessert was melting in its bowl, completely forgotten. He was caught by the way Becker sucked on his spoon, the movement of Becker's tongue as he licked his lips, the filthy noises he made every now and again.

"Why, James, is there a problem? You've barely touched your dessert."

James glanced down at his bowl and then back at Becker, at his wet mouth, his mischievous eyes. He couldn't think of a God damn thing to say. It had to be the fucking painkillers.

Becker reached over and snagged James' spoon, lifting it up to James' mouth. "Try it, sweetheart. It's much too good to waste."

Locking his eyes with Becker, James leaned forward and sucked the spoon into his mouth, noting the way Becker's breath hitched. Becker wasn't the only one who could tease.

"Fucking hell," Becker said and dropped the spoon with a clatter onto the table. He shoved his chair back and before James knew what was happening Becker had lifted him bodily from his chair and set him on top of the table, shoving the dishes aside. James squawked in protest and had a moment to consider how fucking strong Becker was because while James wasn't a particularly large man, neither was he all that light. It wasn't a great distance from the chair to the table, but still.

They kissed hard and open-mouthed, their movements tinged with want and desperation. James swept his tongue through Becker's mouth, chasing every hint of chocolate and rum, making Becker utter little pleased sounds.

Becker leant his forehead against James', their breath mingling together. "Please, James."

James edged forward on the table, pressing even tighter against Becker. "Yes," he said. _God, yes, please._

Becker fumbled to open their trousers and pull their dicks out, jerking them off with quick, efficient strokes, both of them too needy for any sort of finesse. James hooked his legs around Becker and couldn't figure out what to do with his hands, letting them slide up the back of Becker's neck into his hair and then down again, up under his shirt and over his skin. He tucked his nose against Becker's throat and just breathed.

When they'd finished they simply sat there, not moving, come spattered on their clothes and possibly on the table as well. On any other day, James probably would have been appalled at the idea of fucking where they ate, with food still right there on the table, but right then he was only… content, maybe.

There was one thing that needed to be addressed, however, for the sake of his dignity-- or whatever remained of it. "Was putting me on the table absolutely necessary?"

"Absolutely. It was either that or me sitting on your lap, but I thought that might not be such a good idea with your stitches."

"Thank God. You probably would have crushed me."

Becker sniffed. "You're going to give me a complex with the way you're always insulting my weight, sweetie."

"Come off it, you know you're sodding perfect," James said without thinking, realising as the words left his mouth how ridiculously sentimental he sounded. _Fucking painkillers._

Becker smiled in a way that made James feel warm inside, but then Becker's pocket vibrated and he slid his hand in to retrieve his mobile. "Shit," he said, looking at the number. "It's my sister. I should probably…"

"It's fine, go talk to her."

After lightly pressing a kiss to James' mouth, Becker carefully eased him off the table onto his feet, placing his cane in his hand. Heedless of the mess, Becker tucked himself back into his trousers and put the phone to his ear. "Hey," he said, the sound of his laughter lingering behind him as he walked off.

James glanced at himself distastefully and found a napkin so he could at least wipe off some of the stickiness. He then began to clear up the dishes, taking much more time than usual since he could only use one hand. He wiped down the table thoroughly, ensuring there was no evidence of their post-meal activities.

After he'd finished, James found his laptop where Becker had left it by the door. He took it over to the couch, determined not to let the day be a complete waste.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before Becker returned, plopping down on the couch and planting a wet kiss on James' temple. He made a tutting sound. "James, you're not supposed to do any work today. I knew I should have left the laptop at the ARC."

"I'm merely checking my email."

"Which has nothing whatsoever to do with work?"

James ignored him. "How's your sister?"

Becker laughed quietly but allowed himself to be distracted. "She's great. She's been having exams all week so she's planning a big weekend out." He made a face. "I told her to spare me the details but to make sure not to accept drinks or rides from any strange men and she laughed at me."

"Well, I would have laughed at you, too, darling," James said absently. "That's the youngest, Maria, right? Isn't she your favourite?"

"It's rude to pick favourites."

"But she is."

"Yeah, of course. She said to tell you that she's sorry you were hurt but she hopes you're feeling better."

James flipped his laptop closed and put it off to the side. "You told her?"

Becker shrugged. "It's impossible to keep anything from Maria. She sees right through me."

James thought about saying that he didn't mind if Becker talked about him, that it might have bothered him at one point but not anymore. He thought about saying that he'd like to meet Becker's sister, that he was curious to know what she was like, what Becker was like around her. But he didn't say any of it because he didn't want to pry, he didn't want to push, and he knew that Becker would let James meet his family when he was ready to.

Instead he said, "I was thinking about driving to Agatha's on Saturday."

"I thought you might want to. I've got a shift at the ARC."

"Oh, well, I could…"

"No, you go without me. You should see your kids. Spend some time with them on your own. I'll be here when you get back, yeah?"

It was stupid, how inordinately happy that silly little phrase made him. _I'll be here when you get back._ That simple admission, the knowledge that it was true, somehow was worth more than all of their awkward, fumbling attempts at expressing how they felt. He could feel the heat of Becker's body through his clothes and he was just _there,_ solid and comforting and… his.

"I know you will be," James said.

_**End** _


End file.
